Femme Fatale
by Harlequinny
Summary: And so, we learn of the the first woman to make an attempt to build a wrestling career in a long, long time... Why, though? Fame, fortune, family, feminism? How will things fare for her? Post Chojin Crown Tournie AU?
1. The Hercules Factory

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit. Except Maria and Angel. I'm a hobo. Back off.

**A/N: **This is my very first fan fiction, although I am not an amateur writer—I write stories of my own, this being the first of perhaps a few more chapters of such foolishness as Saturday morning cartoons… I just like to do my own thing. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy. And no, this has no yaoi in it. At all. I'm sorry for all you Male/Male fans, I'm not against shounen-ai or yaoi or anything of that nature, but I find it easier to focus on Fem/Male couples. Sorry to disappoint you.

**EDIT:** Sorry, folks, but no romance in this fic! At least, I'm pretty sure.

((By the way, this takes place a few months before the Ikemen Chojin Crown… Slightly AU sometimes, as I'm not entirely sure what they do in the Hercules Factory... I _did, _however, play the GBA version of Ultimate Muscle, so I got some glimpses… It's fun. Kevin Mask ownz.))

**Chapter 1: The Hercules Factory**

Kevin looked up from the television (which was showing a re-run of some old sparring match between Buffaloman and Ramenman) as Croe walked in, chuckling to himself and staring at an article in the newspaper that he obviously found amusing.

"What's so funny?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow under the cold exterior of his mask.

"Ah… I'm just finding it hard to believe. Did you know there's a girl who wants to join the Muscle League?"

"Oh, let me guess, that McMadd woman?" The azure-masked wrestler scoffed, turning back to the telly.

"No, no, I'm being serious! Take a look." He tossed the _Style_ section at him, the paper fluttering down to rest on his face.

"So was I… and by the way, nice throw," he muttered sarcastically, removing the newspaper from his head. Lord Flash, who had had already disappeared back into the other room, did not hear him. Examining the article he was given, he found his comrade's words to be true—A young woman was grinning out at him from a color picture, standing somewhere outside the Hercules Factory, her arms around the shoulders of a few other wrestlers-in-training.

A long article of babbling words surrounded it, column after column, talking about this and that, and a bunch of other pointless rot he didn't care for. Frowning under the blue mask, he continued to examine her—She was tall, standing at somewhere around 6 feet at the _very _least, and lean. Kevin snorted softly. She was much too skinny compared to a Chojin, but from the looks of it, she'd be unfashionably robust compared to other women.

The woman—Maria Williams, the papers said her name was—was 20-year-old American of Irish descent with copper hair, and eyes the color of limes. Some rain had leaked through the protective plastic covering of the newspaper while it was outside, causing much of the color to be smudgy. It wasn't, however, so smudged that he couldn't see that she was purposely alluring. Your typical femme fatale, minus the dominatrix boots. (She opted for sneakers.)

He scoffed again and set the paper down, already making up his mind. "She stands about as much of a chance as a snowball in hell. She's too delicate!" he called into the next room before turning his gaze back to the re-run.

**.:Intermission:.**

Maria stepped off the treadmill, panting. 20 miles was pretty good for just an hour's run… But she could do better! She kicked half-heartedly at a wall before tearing herself away from her self-depreciating thoughts to look up at the clock on the nearly bare walls.

"Shit, I'm freakin' late!" she cursed and made haste, disappearing from her room in no time. (She even neglected to lock her door—And living in the same building as a bunch of other guys, things happened when she forgot.) Instead of being one of the first in class, as she usually was in her haste to show her dedication, she was one of the last, getting stuck with a second-row seat and a bad view. She was tall, but she'd been finding guys were usually taller and bulkier. At least there weren't too many other people sitting with her—The numbers tended to vary depending on who was being hospitalized at the moment.

Maria cursed softly to herself and settled back, getting ready for another long (yet always strangely stimulating) day.

First, it was lessons on rules, rules, more rules, dos and don'ts, blah, blah, blah… Then it was off to the ring, then lunch, and then some more training shit that she actually enjoyed. Today, she and the rest of her class had to scale some sort of cliff wall in the rain… Halfway up, Maria vaguely wondered whether the rain was planned or whether it was sheer coincidence.

Not that she minded either way, of course—She was much too caught up in her task to think of anything but putting one hand over the other, handhold, foothold. It proceeded this way for the next hour or so, the top of the cliff face still never coming into view. Her muscles were beginning to feel like something akin to lead at this point, and she was lucky to not have slipped or fallen yet. One of her classmates had earlier, and the screams of pain she heard once he had hit the bottom were almost enough to make her retch on the spot.

A noise like pop rocks and soda being mixed together cracked over her head. Looking up, she realized what it was, recognizing the distinctive shape of rocks… They could be flying rocks, of course, except there was no reason for their trainers (or gravity) to be so merciful to them.

"…Fuck," she muttered, face emotionless for a second. Then it really kicked in. "_Fuck-tards_!" she yelled, frantically looking around her to see if the others had noticed what she had. Apparently not. "Move, _move_, damnit! – Shit!" Luckily, no rocks seemed to be falling for her (directly.) So, she grabbed the nearest person, pulling him without warning to her.

"Hey, bitch, th'fuck's your problem! What're you—" He was silenced when a boulder, much bigger than it had looked while falling, smashed a fissure into the cliff face. Right where he had been.

"Yeah, I thought so." She responded, releasing her death grip on his arm to let him get back to where he was a few seconds ago—Or, rather, what was left of that spot. That was the worst of the tumbling rocks, so she continued upwards, ignoring the scratches and bruises and scrapes that she would surely find on herself tomorrow from the smaller debris that hailed on them until they reached the top.

God, she just loved this.

**.:Halfway There Intermission:.**

Just a little over a month passed very quickly, and the Ikemen Chojin Crown was coming up like a cheetah on every confident wrestler's ass. Kevin Mask, of course, was no exception. Lately, he had been training in local gyms against pathetic excuses for combatants—Who now all lay on the floor, out cold.

"Hopeless…" he muttered, picking up his trench coat to leave. These blokes would be no help at all. Kevin stepped outside, the change from the dark gym into the sunlight making him squint and almost sneeze.

"_I'm FREE!_ I'm FREE, I'm FREE_, I'm FREE!"_

"Oi! Get back here, you left your luggage in the cab!"

"I don't care! No more sitting through boring classes about rules! FREE!"

A blur of green and orange shot past him, yelling and shouting excitedly. "Yes! This is GREAT! Ahh, hello again, earth! Hello, random pedestrians! Hello, giant guy!" The blur flew past again, slowing down just enough so that he could see it was a copper-haired woman. The young chojin thought about it a moment… '_Oh—It's that Williams girl. From the papers.' _But why was she running around like a bloody madcap?

"GET BACK HERE, YOU BLEEDING LUNATIC!" The sharper, steely voice drew his attention—The owner was across the street, a bit hard to spot due to being short. Black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes… She also looked pissed off at the world, as if her expression said—all the time— _I don't want to be here_. The article in the papers might have said something about her, but he wouldn't know—He didn't read the bloody thing. Maybe she was Maria's manager? Probably. Kevin continued to watch the scene for a few more moments, until the dark-haired girl's eyes caught his and narrowed. There was something very, very strange about this girl. She didn't seem older than Maria at all… If anything, she could have been younger. Kevin let the matter drop from his mind, hopping onto his nearby motorcycle. _Like he cared._

**.:You're Almost Done Intermission:.**

"So, where the hell are we going again?" the small girl asked, finally having gotten Maria to calm down. They were walking along the sidewalk that the cab had left them on, passing curious children and adults, townhouses and apartment complexes, shops and outdoor markets… At least Maria seemed to know her way around the place. She couldn't even remember the name of the freakin' city.

"To an old friend of mine's place… I haven't seen him in over a decade." She bounced slightly in her step at this, grinning.

"If that's the case, I don't want to come. Your friends are weird. They usually say weird things, have weird habits, and have weird styles of dressing. And you're _excited_ to see this one..."

"That's alright with me, go look for a hotel room or something."

Angel left abruptly, rolling her eyes and entering a nearby shop that sold chocolate. Chocolate was always good, especially after dealing with a kid like Maria all day.

Five minutes later, Kid Muscle, Wally, and Dik Dik looked up from a television program at the knocking sound on the door.

**A/N: **I was going to include more in this chapter, but I'm such a freakin' lazy bum. Sorry! Next chapter will come soon, tell me what you think in a review, blah, blah, blah. Here, I just really wanted to establish the characters of Maria and her manager, Angel, and sort of tell Kevin's first impressions of them.))


	2. Old Friends and What Not

**Disclaimer:** I STILL don't own shit. Except for Maria and Angel. So back off, punks!

A/N: Yeah, I know this fic sucks, despite a few good reviews (as opposed to no bad reviews, which, I guess, is progress…) because I never even worked out a plot in the first place. It's too long to be a ficlet, but the lack of plot deprives it of being a full-fledged fanfiction. I'll keep putting up the chappies as long as you guys keep reviewing, and constructive criticism is always welcome! Thanks for taking time out of your day to read this. Ho'kay, here goes!

Oh, and as a side note… To tell you guys the truth, I really feel left out in a whole section of fanfictions in which nearly every single one is slash. I mean, seriously, there's maybe… what, u two u other people in this whole Ultimate Muscle genre who wrote something about Kevin Mask in which he isn't homosexual. I'm really, really sorry to all of you Kevin/Croe supporters! Don't bash me, 'cause I bash back.

Holy shit, I'm really good at rambling… IN ANY CASE… LET'S BEGIN!

Monsieur Cheeks: "In ze last episode…"

Five minutes later, Kid Muscle, Wally, and Dik Dik looked up from a television program at the knocking sound on the door.

"…Let's get to ze bottom of eet!" leaps off

((A/N: Doesn't he annoy you? I don't like Mr. French, either. I mean, my Dad was French Canadian, so I don't really have anything agianst the country, just... _those two annoy the crap out of me_!))

**Chapter 2: Old Friends and What Not**

For a moment, it was silent, the only sound being the TV blaring loudly in front of them. The window of calm, however, was shattered by a muffled, "Hello?" from the other side of the door, a woman's voice, and a few more tentative knocks. Meat came running from the other room, muttering incoherently about the lazy bums sitting around watching TV.

With some difficulty, Kid Muscle's diminutive manager undid the locks to the door ((A/N: Don't even ask me how he did that… I mean, he'll manage to save Comrade Turbinsky from certain death by catching him with his bare hands at the end of the former's match with Kevin Mask, won't he? What challenge does a few simple apartment locks present to him? Well, they're only two feet above his head, I'd assume. Maybe he used a stepstool.)). Opening it, he discovered a very tall, very happy-looking young woman in a unitard looking curiously down at him.

"Ehh… Can I help you?" he inquired after a brief pause. Where had he seen this lady before? Before he could think on it any further, she was nodding with certainty and replying.

"Yeah… My name's Maria, I'm really sorry for just dropping by unexpectedly and all, but I just got off my plane… and I'm actually looking for a Terry Kenyon. He here?" When she spoke, he picked up a barely noticable southern lilt to her English, slightly different than the aforementioned Terry's. She also seemed a bit nervous.

Meat nodded hesitantly, and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to come in—In doing so, he noticed that a there were one or two suitcases lying beside the door, pushed out of the way. The tags read, in their bold, official-looking (yet slightly smudged) airline font, "WILLIAMS, MARIA." Now where did _that _name ring a bell? He must've seen her somewhere before.

The tall girl stepped inside and waved half-sheepishly at the wrestlers sitting on the couch, who stared at her. After a second or two, Wally waved, greeting her cheerfully, followed in suit by the others.

"Hey, Kid, go call Terry, wouldja?"

Mantaro groaned and started to get up, only to sit himself back down when the door to the bathroom opened, clouds of steam billowing out into the hallway. "Who's next?" The young Texan blinked and re-adjusted the towel around his waist as he stepped out of the bathroom, slightly stunned in equal measures by both the uncanny silence of his companions, and the presence of the unfamiliar young woman in their living room (she was still standing by the door, examining the room). Her bright green eyes seemed to scan the others first before landing on him.

She didn't say anything, but her body immediately tensed; her hands were noticeably white from clasping each other so hard. "Terry?"

"Um… D'I know you?" he asked, a mix of uncertainty and bewilderment written candidly across his Texan features. They all, including Maria, ignored the fact that he was still standing in the living room half-naked. She nodded slightly. "Yeah… It's been quite awhile… Years, actually, but since I was in town, I heard you were here and decided to stop by and see you after all this time. I'm Maria Williams. 'Member? Scrawny kid from Georgia?"

Terry stared for a moment longer, blinking in confusion.

"…Wait… Williams?" A wide grin spread across his face. "…Yeah… Yer mom and you used to come'n visit us..." He crossed his arms, a memory catching in his mindset. "And we used to do the craziest things... Like the time we stole the tractor... Yeah!" He grinned braodly-- It'd been a long time since he'd thought of that incident. "You've changed a lot."

"Not as much as you may think… " She replied, returning the grin, walking up and giving him a tight handshake.

A "clearing-the-throat-to-get-attention" sound caused Terry to look down, finding his gaze resting upon a very peeved-looking Meat. "I hate to interrupt your reunion, but you're making a big puddle in the middle of the living room." He said bluntly, pointing at the dark puddle of water in the blue carpet.

Terry looked down to examine it as a cheerful little ring tone went off simultaneously somewhere on Maria's person. She whipped the phone out from nowhere and checked who was calling (only to grimace when she saw that it was Angel's cell number, along with a text message). "Damn-fuckin'..." Her voice trailed off into an incoherent stream of mumbled curses, which she hoped had gone unheard. The femme wrestler paused before switching the phone off without answering the call. When she looked back up, Terry realized that she stood almost eye-to-eye level with him, much taller than he had presumed at first.

There was a pause, and she made a frustrated noise. "…Well, I guess I've gotta go anyways…" Her smile returned after a mere moment when she thought of something. Procuring a card from yet another seemingly invisible pocket, she handed it to him. "Gimme a call, we should get together sometime, 'kay?" Her features clearly showed that she was sorry to leave, but she leaned forward and gave him a friendly, one-armed hug. It was a bit awkward for Terry-- Hugs were not his customary farewell, as must be with her. He'd given hugs before, of course, but somehow, this time it was different. Perhaps it was the stray memory of them throwing rocks at each other at five years old.

As Maria walked to the door, she bid everyone adieu, her manner friendly and carefree now that she'd gotten over the semi-awkward parts—And, as quickly as she had come, she was gone. The pounding footsteps down the hall echoed loudly, as if she were running.

She was a strange one, but she was also just one of those people that you liked to be around.

**Intermission!.**

After Maria had quietly shut the door behind her, she let out an exhale full of worry. Normally, a call from her manager would be no big thing—This was an exception, a very big exception, because the text message Angel had sent her contained three letters: _SOS_. It was, to say the least, uncharacteristically distressing.

Quick as her body could, she seized her suitcases and headed down a level, depositing them in the lobby without a second thought for the safety of their contents.

Earlier, when she had just gotten out of the cab and was rejoicing her freedom, the streets had seemed so empty, with room enough for her to jump about as she pleased and do cartwheels. Now they looked bustling, and even from her exceptional height, people blocked the path to her friend. Angel had given no specific directions or even a mere hint at where she was—After all, if she were in trouble, she wouldn't have time to text much. Taking into account the fact that Angel was a technophobe, and that included a dislike of cell phones, Maria was surprised that she had even managed to turn the phone on.

She shouldered her way through the crowd quickly, dispersing a group of gossiping mothers holding infants here, pushing aside a mopey teenager; eventually a pathway was formed through the crowd. After all, pedestrians weren't fond of being shoved around by a tall, livid American woman in a hurry. There was only one big street in the area with but a few protruding dead-end alleys, but she made sure to check each of these before moving on.

Breaking free of the masses, she broke into a sprint, her long legs finally able to carry her with speed. Her heels skidded to a stop against the concrete of the sidewalk (leaving two long black skid marks along the pavement) as she came to an alley, hoping it was the place she was looking for— It was the last one before the street split into a four-way intersection. By this time, her breath was quicker, as she must have run several miles in a very small amount of time. "Angel!!? Hello?!" she called into the alleyway with an acid-laced tone of voice. Her eyes narrowed against the darkness as she took a few steps into it—A sudden movement to her right, and instinctively she pounced on it as a cat would a mouse. This cat's aim was off by a bit of a long-shot.

**.Second Intermission!.**

Angel sighed, dodging the younger woman's assail. "Not bad, Williams. Looks like you've gotten a little faster."

"…What?" Maria's voice rejoined from the darkness, dangerously low and suspicious.

"Did you hit your head when I wasn't looking? I said: you've gotten faster." The dark-haired mentor stepped out of the shadow of the brick wall and into the daylight, holding up an old-fashioned brass stopwatch.

"WHAT??!!!" Maria had to restrain herself from strangling her mentor. "You… You… You almost gave me a goddamn heart attack, you…" She restrained herself from letting out an exceptionally long string of curses. "…You u jerk! /u I thought you were in trouble!" One last look at the stopwatch. "And you I stole my stopwatch!!! /I " The redhead stepped out of the alley, pouting, arms folded. The conversation/argument continued as they walked back the way they came.

"I've found that people perform better with an incentive. When you've got something on the line, you work harder."

"Incentive my ass!" The young woman shouted. "What're you gonna do when you REALLY need my help?"

"I trust you'll keep responding my calls. After all, what if I really _was_ in trouble?" The dark-haired woman's comeback was completely emotionless as she used Maria's own statement against her.

At this, Maria fell silent (but remained fuming), because her cohort had a point, and even if it was an incredibly bitchy and conceited one, it was very truthful. She could never let any harm come to her comrade… She was like the older sister she never had. It was only a few minutes before she calmed down ("Let's go get ice cream!"), all but forgetting the incident—It had, after all, been a little entertaining anyway. She was so cheerful that she even forgot about the luggage she had discarded in the lobby. Poor Maria probably wasn't going to have a change of knickers tomorrow.

**.Last Intermission for this Chapter!.**

People stared at Kevin as he strolled by. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to it; of course he was—He was a Chojin, an idol, a celebrity. People stared, fan girls and boys took pictures, and men bought him drinks at bars in unsuccessful attempts to start up a conversation… or whatever it was that strange men in bars bought wrestlers drinks for. In fact, the closest bar was where he was headed right now—He didn't know why, but his mind felt fatigued. With barely a glance at the bright neon sign—Its tawdry light annoyed him for no reason at all—he moseyed into a sports bar. At least, he assumed it was a sports bar. It really didn't matter at the moment.

The young Brit found himself surrounded by few other customers, all of whom were seated at the far ends of the bar. It was quite early in the evening to be getting a bunch of customers, anyway, so that wasn't unusual… Maybe he'd be gone by the time the mass swarms of middle-aged men arrived after their work day to spend their wages on booze and bets. Vaguely, he wished that Croe was here, as it was nice to have somebody to talk to sometimes, lone wolf he was. Unfortunately, the older man had insisted that he was not in the mood to go out anyplace, but to give him a call if he needed anything. Kevin sat down at a far table with his back to the wall.

"So, hot stuff, what can I get you tonight?" The brisk voice came from somewhere by his shoulder, and he didn't bother to look at the speaker.

"Just… whatever." He muttered.

There was a slight pause before the response, as if the waitress was thinking about something. "Alrighty, then, one tequila with sugar on the rim coming right up, hon!" Brisk steps marked the leave of the woman.

_Oh, God. _Maybe he should have been more specific. Sighing, he buried his head in his arms.

**A/N:** …And here I have ended the chapter. I'm sorry, I know you guys asked for longer ones, but five pages is my limit when it comes to leisure writing. Plus, reading it over, I've found that it's rather vague and fast-paced… Pathetic, I know, but at least I made an attempt… And this whole chapter was very, very pointless. I'm starting to think of just abandoning the whole thing… After all, who the hell's gonna like it if it doesn't have yaoi in it? **Update**: I've rewritten some of the stuff, changing the mary-sue ish parts (or trying to), and correcting some bad cases of sentence structure. I hope it's a little better now.


	3. Bad Days Happen

**A/N:** I would like to say that I have edited chapters 1 and 2 many, many times over in an attempt to make my characters less Sue-ish. I'm only doing writing this new one because I promised a certain worshipped authoress that I would, and this is only to see how it'll do… Flames are alright, as long as they're constructive flames.

And y'know what? Since this is my UMiverse, I'm going to go out on a limb, completely disregard most of my last two chapters, and make this _after_ the Chojin Crown tournie after all. (Sorry to all you Lord Flash/Warsman fans, but he is now _exeunt._) I've never read the manga, so this is obviously based off of the Saturday morning series… Meaning Kevin is currently dealing with his recent loss.

What happened last episode: It's revealed that Maria and Terry "The Kid" are childhood chums! She leaves her luggage in the lobby of a hotel whose name she can't even remember, and Kevin walks into a very ambiguous bar.

(I am not affiliated with the Holiday Inn in any way.)

**Chapter 3: Bad Days Happen**

In the future (meaning, a few days from now), Kevin would look back on this night and think: '_God, how I should have left the moment I realized that I couldn't tell whether that 'waitress' was a man or woman…_' And to tell the truth, he would probably never know.

The first few hours had passed in the blink of an eye, it seemed. Nothing at all had happened in the bar during that time, besides a few more lazy shots… In fact, he hadn't even realized that "Happy Hour" had started. Although one may think that such a thing would be very obvious (what with the karaoke, and the shouting, and the fact that it _is _the middle of the night and all), things tend to blend like batter when you're on your fourth tequila… It didn't show with Kevin, of course, because he wasn't drunk— but his gaze was distant, his mind vacant and wandering. It was nice, not having to think about anything at all once in awhile.

In fact, he was so out of it that not even the balding, middle-aged man singing '_I Will Survive_' on the karaoke machine could bring him out of his reverie. And that man's screeching was enough to make a deaf gelding keel over in writhing agony.

Later, when he would try to remember everything, he would find that he couldn't; Most of it blurred together, creating an inebriated tapestry of shouts, laughter, flashing lights, that small annoying bell on the front door, and a low, incessant humming noise inside his skull.

(He probably couldn't even have told you what the word 'inebriated' meant, because he wouldn't have been listening. But for the record, it is synonymous with 'drunken'.)

Angel stared as her companion pushed open the door to a neon-signed building named _Joliana's_. "…Okay, you've either taken me to a gay bar, or this is just one extravagant chick." Her companion laughed, motioning for her to come inside.

"What, I heard this place was great! Sure, it's… 'rainbow-friendly,' but how can you _not_ love a place with karaoke?_"_

"Rainbow-friendly? 'Ria, are you…?"

"_No_! I… I like men! But sometimes it's fun to swing around these places, and you told me you were very tolerant of…"

"…Right, I wasn't really listening. Tell me, why do you hang out at bars when you act drunk enough already with _just_ the karaoke?"

"Cause I can—and I'm **celebrating tonight**! C'mon, just this one night, to celebrate the fact that I still have all of my limbs intact!" Maria laughed again. "And it's only going to be for a little while. I won't get trashed or anything. Not _completely_ trashed. I'll use the right bathroom, swear it!" Maria begged in vain. Taking a seat at an empty barstool, she spun around once, waiting for Angel to take a seat beside her.

However, her friend didn't come. She hadn't even set foot in the place before leaving—That just wasn't polite, was it? Predictable girl. That was okay, Maria assumed, because she probably knew her way around by now.

Well, she supposed… Another day, another night…

Now let's bring on those drinks!

It must have been around 11:00 (Jeez—and here he told himself he'd be out by 6) when the equivalent weight of a sack of wet cement fell on top of his table—Now that was something that could bring any person that wasn't completely _comatose_ out of a reverie.

He must've jumped three feet when he felt the table suddenly slam up against his chest—it didn't hurt, but it was startling… Not to mention, his drink had quickly migrated from his glass to his lap.

Looking up in annoyance, Kevin was a bit surprised at what he saw—He'd assumed that some booty-shaking passerby had knocked his table… (The place had apparently transformed into something of a nightclub while he was daydreaming). Instead, what he found was an entire person sprawled upon the flat surface, complete with arms, legs, and head dangling off of the edges.

Kevin recoiled slightly, placing the glass gingerly on a nearby seat as the young woman laughed relentlessly, clutching her sides at some hilarious point which he failed to get. She kicked her legs against the wooden sides of the table, cockroach-killer heels banging like shotguns against the wood. The racket only ceased once a pair of rough, long-fingered hands hoisted the woman up off of the table.

"Oy, sorry about that! My bad!" laughed the second female as she attempted to set the other woman upright on her feet once more. It was really a pathetic scene—One woman, a brunette dressed in a sequined faux-cowgirl dominatrix outfit was flailing her arms about in all directions, grabbing onto people and furniture in a miserable attempt to stand upright. The other woman, a redhead who dwarfed the other by at least a foot and a half, looked as if she'd just come straight out of a fistfight and was trying her very best not to laugh at the drunken partier. The latter turned towards him, suddenly not so bleary-eyed.

"Hey, wait, you're…" Again, all of Maria's attempts at a straight face went down the crapper. "…Did you know this is a dyke bar? You are one built lady…" she told him very matter-of-factly with a strong slur, leaning back and stretching as she did so. After a moment, she stood, slammed a fistful of bills on the counter of the bar without counting them, and stumbled from the bar, leaving the sloshed brunette stumbling in her wake.

He blinked, edging out from behind the table as soon as he heard the annoying bell on the door as she departed. (Kevin could hardly help the overwhelming feeling that people were going to start getting the wrong impression of him. Whatever happened to normal bars, with filthy trays of peanuts and noisy games blaring on television screens?)

It was the second time he'd seen this woman today, after that strange public display she'd had earlier—Maybe he was right, and she was trying to drown her failure sorrows in Margaritaville. No way she'd be celebrating anything, he thought as he rose to leave.

Kevin exited as well after paying, taking his time. Really, he was hoping that that wannabe femme-wrestler wouldn't still be hanging around by the time he got out there—He'd walked from his motel, so there would be no quick motorcycle getaway this time. Unfortunately for him, she _was_ still hanging around—…if you could call it that. She was actually across the street, pacing back and fourth aimlessly.

At least she wasn't bothering _him_…

...It made him wonder, though. Other than being a bit buzzed, she looked perfectly fine. Not even a band-aid on her that he could see. Was he actually _wrong_? She'd made it through the Factory without being eaten alive? He turned to look at her, just as she clutched her head in frustration and hurled.

And hurl she did— quite spectacularly, in a conveniently placed trash can. It was almost morbidly fascinating. But he got bored after the first two seconds and pivoted on his heel, ready to make a discreet left-stage exit.

"Hey! You! The closest hotel's a… What's it… A Holiday Inn, right?" The voice was a little muffled; she had been wiping her mouth off at the moment of speaking, apparently unfazed by the impromptu upchuck.

He narrowed his eyes, hoping to God that this was the only thing she was going to say to him. "Yes," he growled, walking a little bit faster.

"Oh. Okay, then."

Wait, _he_ was staying at the Holiday Inn, just two streets up. Damn!

Even though he lacked a rear-view mirror, he knew she wasn't far behind, her footsteps pattering on the wet concrete and splashing through puddles from the evening's rain. It really, really grated on his nerves.

The last shard of hope that she wouldn't follow him into the hotel was shattered when she did just that, dragging her feet up to the clerk at the desk and quietly asking about something. He hurried to the stairs, trudging up them wearily in the direction of the miserable little hovel that was 4A.

The trip up felt almost dreamlike, seeming to take years. The thought that his boots were made of lead and his muscles had turned into jelly seemed perfectly logical at the time; But again, his second deep reverie for the day was interrupted by something unwelcome and unwanted.

In this case, it was the quiet ding of an elevator as it opened, letting its passenger out onto the fourth floor.

"What, now you're following me!"

Green eyes glared back at him, now apparently more clear-minded and straight-backed than they had been earlier.

"I only asked you for the closest hotel, jerk! I couldn't care less if you slummed it in the alley across the street! Maybe people'd like you better if you weren't such a nar…narsi…" Her icy tone was ruined by her mid-sentence pause as her mind (drunkenness carried the words from her mouth almost before they registered) tried to remember the word she was thinking of. "…_Narcissistic_ bastard! At least I'm here with my _convictions_—What've you got?" Despite her attempts to recover her indignant glare, she'd ruined her own moment. In an attempt to salvage it, Maria turned sharply and took excessively long strides down the hall to 4D, slamming her fist against the door so hard that it began to splinter around the knob. After that, she waited patiently for her companion to let her in, sparing Kevin not another glance (though she could practically feel his indignant gaze burning into her skin), failing to understand why he didn't just go into his room already. Their "conversation" was over; didn't he get it? Jeez, did something _offend_ him?

Maria pushed roughly past Angel and her dark-eyed stare, slamming the door closed behind her. Quickly she whirled around on her manager, stooping over slightly in an attempt to look the smaller girl at eye-level.

"Men! I hate them!" Angel's image doubled, but this didn't seem to convern Maria. "Pompous cocks think that … Cause… Cause…" she paused, an almost pained expression crossing her face as the room suddenly swerved vertically.

Angel stepped forward, catching Maria under the arms as both of their legs gave way beneath her weight. Only her eyes belied the anger that spread across Angel's face. "Well at least those _men_ don't break their promises! I should toss you off the balcony—drunk as you are, you wouldn't even notice, hypocritical…" the rest turned into a series of grumbles as she noted that Maria had fallen asleep right there.

"_Hmph_. Push you off the balcony in the morning, right before a bucket of ice water. _That'll _teach you."

  
**A/N:**Yep. That's it. And I don't care, I'm not going back to edit the other chapters to accommodate my obscene plot swerve.

By the way: Did I make Maria seem less bubbly? I'm aware that that's the way she came out at first, and it is an important side of her, but I also want people to know that she's got different faces, just like everyone else in the world. Oh, and don't ask me, I'll tell you now: Maria is straight. She's just really open, I guess.


End file.
